Restrained and Willing

by Tiffany Bryan

  He wasn’t looking for a compliant doormat. His rebellious tomboy was unique and he wanted her to stay that way. A totally obedient woman was not the dream girl for a man who enjoyed the varying facets of sensual discipline. Besides, he liked the way her eyes smoldered with frustration when she didn’t get her way.

  Before too long, her bedroom brown eyes would be smoldering with a very different emotion. On a regular basis.

  He pulled off Chagrin Boulevard, curved around to the restaurant’s entrance and handed the keys to the young gentleman who opened his door. Before exiting the car, Pierce grabbed Heather’s silk shawl off the backseat, stepped out and strode around to the other side.

  If anyone was going to have the pleasure of ogling the silky length of her shapely legs as she exited the vehicle, it was going to be him.

  He didn’t put the wrap around her shoulders. That was for later, as the temperature was due to take a drastic dip. Even for Cleveland it was an odd summer, with thirty-degree drops late into the evening.

  “Hungry?” He guided her inside with a light hand at her back. She indicated no discomfort with the gesture. A good thing, since he was a touchy kind of guy. And she had a body that screamed to be touched.

  “Starving,” she drew out. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

  Another affirmation of her nervousness he took note of.

  He greeted the maître d’, introduced Heather and followed the white-haired gentleman across the dining room to an intimate corner table.

  Pierce motioned her into the chair in the corner and sat on the chair next to her. Once settled and their water glasses filled, a waiter came around with a wine list and two menus.

  “Just one menu,” Pierce stated before she could accept hers.

  She didn’t say a word, not even when the young man nodded and moved off after wine was ordered.

  Pleased by her restraint, Pierce perused the leather-bound menu as another black-suited gentleman came around with a napkin-rimmed basket and placed a fresh baked roll on each of their bread plates.

  “Can you pass me the butter, please?” Heather asked when they were alone.

  “Hold off for a few more seconds, sweetheart, and I’ll butter it for you.”

  She nodded and he motioned their server back.

  “How’s the calamari marinara tonight, Antonio?”

  The young man kissed his fingertips. “Eccellente, Mr. Layton.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Pierce saw Heather wince. She detested squid. She had very exacting tastes when it came to seafood.

  That she refrained from voicing the objection behind her lush, kissable lips was admirable. Clearly, she’d done some homework on the expectations of a submissive. Not that he was a strict Dom in the traditional sense. He wouldn’t always choose for her, but tonight was special and it pleased him to cater to her needs, give her a taste of what to expect. All the different ways he intended to see to her needs while in his possession.

  “Hmmm.” He rubbed his chin, pretending to consider. He closed and handed back the menu. “We’ll start with the crab-cake appetizer. Two New York strips. Rare for me. Medium rare for the lady. A side of steamed broccoli. One tiramisu to share for dessert.”

  “Very good, Mr. Layton.”

  “Thank you,” Heather murmured when the waiter departed.

  Pierce smiled. “I’ve known you long enough to know what you like. And not only when it comes to your food choices.” He paused to admire the way the single candle in the middle of the table danced across her pretty features. “You need to learn your pleasure is foremost in my mind.”

  “I like the sound of that. The pleasure, I mean.”

  “Please me, and I’m more than happy to reciprocate. Disobey and… Well, I think we’ll play that one by ear.”

  While he talked, he took her roll and buttered it.

  Instead of passing the warm, fragrant bread back to her, he tore off a small piece and held it up a few inches away from her lips.

  Drawn, both by the man and the heavenly aroma of the fresh-baked bread, Heather leaned in, took the bread between her lips and purposely grazed Pierce’s fingertips. Peering deep into his eyes, she gathered the thin film of creamy butter from her lips with the tip of her tongue.

  Intent on her mouth, his eyes deepened to near emerald.

  She’d always been entranced by his mesmerizing eyes. Deep-green oceans a woman could float in forever. And if things worked out as she wanted, she’d be the last female with rights to do so.

  Behind what she hoped was a calm façade, an entire litter of Snoopy pups danced in her head as she held his gaze.

  She wasn’t without power.

  Pierce always seemed so sure of himself, unshakable. His dominant demeanor differed from her brothers’ out-front, in-your-face kind. But he was no less commanding. Thrilling. Even for someone as strong willed as herself. The allure of being under his control became more and more appealing by the second.

  Heather thought she’d balk under his firm hand the way she’d done all her life with the three near-inflexible males who’d raised her. It had taken a good portion of her tender years to figure out how to maneuver her way around their chest-beating my-word-is-law crap. Something told her she’d need more than a single lifetime to figure out a way around Pierce’s dictates. With any luck, she’d engage in a long-term, very slow learning process that would be sexually gratifying for both of them. She felt a pleasing sensual buzz of excitement at the thought of his large, long-fingered hand making contact with her bare ass. A pleasant buzz she couldn’t blame on having had too much wine, since it hadn’t arrived yet. No, this reaction was pure, unadulterated Pierce.

  A small whimper escaped her lips.

  “You okay?”

  She nodded numbly.

  He touched his pinky finger to the corner of her lips.

  Enthralled, she watched as he drew it to his mouth and licked the buttery residue off. “Missed a smidge.” The low pitch of his voice, the sensual gleam in his eyes, sent a shock wave of heat straight to her already moistening pussy.

  Good grief. They hadn’t even made it past the warm, fragrant, lightly crusted bread and her sex drive had launched into the stratosphere. At this rate, she’d never make it past dinner without an embarrassing wet spot on the back of her dress.

  “Here.” He reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and held out a monogrammed handkerchief.

  When she attempted to wipe her mouth, he placed a detaining hand on her wrist. Shook his head.

  Oh God. She was so screwed. Was the man a psychic?

  He leaned in, lightly kissed the shell of her ear and whispered, “Place it on the seat, lift your skirt up to your hips and spread your legs.”

  She scanned the crowded restaurant.

  He caught her chin in a light grip.

  “Trust.” He looked deep into her eyes. “Trust in me. Trust in yourself. Without that, a relationship between us will never work. This is the real deal, sweetheart. Tonight determines what kind of tomorrow we’ll have. Tonight the choices are yours.”

  “But how can they be mine when you—” A light kiss swept the rest of the words from her lips.

  “I simply present the options. You choose which ones to accept.”

  “What if what you propose is beyond my comfort level? I’ve read about safe words.”

  His chuckle was low, his eyes glinting with amusement.

  She canted her head. “What? You don’t believe in them?”

  “On the contrary. Even in a relationship where trust is twofold, the use of a safe word is a good practice to adopt. Or some mutually agreed-upon way to stop a scene if it becomes necessary. Especially when restraints come into play. It’s just that in all the years I’ve been topping women, not a single one has used their safe word.”

  “Really? Not a single female ever felt uncomfortable—”

  “Safe words are not used for merely being uncomfortable. They’re used for being pushed far
beyond endurance or instances of intolerable pain far removed from pleasure. Anything less is a copout few Doms will tolerate. An immediate deal breaker for most. So, sweets, make damn sure if you use yours, it’s for the right reason.”

  A not so subtle warning she intended to take to heart. “But what about extreme discomfort?”

  “Some things we’ll discuss beforehand. For those we don’t you’ll choose a secondary word. One that will pause a scene. Allow time to discuss and determine if your concerns are genuine or something to be worked through.”

  That seemed fair. Apparently, there was much more to the intricacies of being a submissive than she’d imagined. But there was one thing she was very sure of. She wanted to please Pierce. In every possible way. She smiled in relief.

  “So what will be your safe word? Pick one to stop and one to halt a scene for discussion.”

  She thought a moment. “Demolition to stop. Construction to discuss.”

  “Cute. And not words that can be misconstrued in any sexual setting. Just know I may choose to ignore either if I feel you’ve used them prematurely.”

  Her smile faded. Wait. What? He’d decide? Well, hell! She opened her mouth to point out the lack of fairness.

  “Nonnegotiable. Which brings us back to the trust issue.”

  The breath she’d drawn seeped past her lax lips as if it were a leaky birthday balloon. Since she trusted him implicitly with every cell in her body, she knew there was only one reply. “Okay.”

  “Good.” He sat back, seemingly satisfied.

  She felt his approval all the way to her polished red toes. God, he had the most amazing, full-lipped mouth. She suppressed a shiver at the thought of the ways he was capable of using it. She’d only gotten a sampling before they’d left her apartment. But she remembered every detail of how his talented mouth had brought pleasure to the women in the movie she’d stumbled across. That she wasn’t the one on the receiving end of his expertise didn’t matter, she’d been totally turned-on. Which brought her thinking around to another topic. Threesomes. Could she share him? Would he want to share her? A nagging, titillating subject better left for another time.

  “Heather.”

  She pulled her gaze from his captivating mouth to his slightly narrowed eyes. It took a moment to realize he was patiently waiting for her to comply with his earlier request. This time, she ignored her surroundings, looked directly into his warm eyes and unfolded the square of fine linen he’d given her. She rose up just enough to slip the cloth over the chair seat and on the way back down, raised her dress and let her thighs fall open.

  Once settled, she realized how unfounded her fears were. It probably looked as if she was merely adjusting her dress, the long white tablecloth hindering the view of the other diners who were quietly conversing with their own dinner partners.

  Pierce’s hand landing lightly on her thigh removed all thoughts of their surroundings.

  “I’ve always prided myself on being an honest man. But that’s not wholly true.”

  “But you—” Before she could finish, the waiter returned with their wine.

  It seemed like forever before he’d poured a small amount into Pierce’s glass for his approval, filled both their glasses and moved away.

  Pierce squeezed Heather’s thigh. She nearly groaned. After all the years of fantasizing, the reality of being alone with Pierce in a setting more intimate than friendship was so, so much better.

  “I hadn’t realized until tonight how dishonest I’d been to myself. My growing attraction to you over the years.”

  “You were attracted to me? Why didn’t you say something?”

  He shook his head. “For a hundred different reasons. Your family for one. God, sweetheart. For years I’d considered you nothing but a pesky little sister. The one I’d never had. Being an only child could suck sometimes.”

  She expelled a soft laugh. “Really? Try growing up with three—” She gave him a pointed look. “Make that four overprotective Neanderthal males. There were plenty of times I’d wished I’d been an only child.”

  He chuckled. “I guess I can see where you’re coming from. But you have to know it was all done out of love. To keep you safe.”

  Loved… Safe.

  Two simple words by which every woman wanted to define their relationship with a man. Not so simple when you delved into the intricate layers behind its sentiments.

  She had no doubt Pierce would keep her safe, make sure she never felt threatened.

  It was love and its innumerable degrees. That was the issue.

  The kind of love she wanted from Pierce was raw, mature. The can’t-keep-my-hands-off-you, can’t-wait-to-fuck-you kind. And she was determined to make him see that’s what he wanted too.

  Pierce wasn’t sure what was going on inside that intelligent, pretty head of hers, but between one heartbeat and the next her entire demeanor changed. It was as if she’d found her footing and was determined to maintain it.

  He’d paid little attention to the crab-cake appetizers or the main course that arrived a short time later, as he was paying more attention to how the sexy female next to him was eating. Who knew lips sliding over fork tines as she enjoyed her meal could be so damn erotic. Okay, he knew, but she was taking it to a whole new level. The dark tint of her lipstick long gone, her lips were still a deep rose. And he wanted to experience the feel of them gliding over his stiff cock.

  The main course finished, they were two bites into the delicious tiramisu and all he wanted to do was toss her up onto the white linen tablecloth, yank open her legs, smear the decadent dessert all over her hairless pussy and tongue it off until he brought her to a banshee-screeching orgasm. And if she ran her tongue over her pouty lips one more time, leaving behind that hint of shimmer that reminded him of pussy juice, he was damn well going to do it.

  He laid down his fork.

  Fuck it. They were done here.

  A subtle motion to their server brought him to the table.

  Ignoring Heather’s inquisitive look, he requested the check, an additional dessert and two chilled bottles of the excellent sauvignon blanc they’d been drinking to take with them.

  When he noticed her staring down at their unfinished dessert with longing, he doubled the order.

  She could have hers…after he ate his way through his.

  After the bill arrived, he stuffed a few hundred bucks into the receipt folder and stood.

  “Better slip this on.” He retrieved her silky green wrap from the back of the empty chair beside him, draped it over her shoulders and placed a soft kiss just below her earlobe.

  A shiver rippled through her.

  “Mmmm. I love your responsiveness.”

  She hesitated. “I’m not usually. In the past—”

  “Shhh, not now. We’ll talk through all that later. Your past. The future.” He lightly kissed the curve of her neck and caught a whiff of her subtle zesty perfume. Whatever brand it was, he had a feeling it was going to become his favorite.

  Things were progressing more quickly than anticipated. He’d be an idiot to complain. Her sensual play during the last half of their dinner and her blatant body language shouted I’m more than ready.

  Her statement that she wasn’t responsive surprised the hell out of him. Especially, since she’d been responding to his slightest overtures all night long. He wasn’t so conceited about his ability to master women that his ego couldn’t rear up and take a bow.

  While she stood and discreetly adjusted the bottom half of her dress, their waiter returned with the wine and food.

  “Thank you for the excellent service and please extend my appreciation to the rest of the staff. Particularly the chef. Vincenzo outdid himself tonight.”

  “I’ll make sure to do that, Mr. Layton. Hope to see you and the lovely lady again soon.” The young man gave them both a friendly smile before checking in with another couple a few tables away.

  Pierce picked up the to-go order packaged along with the swan
fashioned from tinfoil that contained half of Heather’s dinner.

  When she gathered up his handkerchief and attempted to put it in the small black-beaded purse she’d brought, he stopped her.

  He shook his head. “Mine.” Ignoring her startled look, he took the cloth from her loose fingers and nearly groaned at its dampness. He reluctantly tucked the square of fabric into his jacket pocket. Damn, he wanted to mash it to his face and fill his lungs with her heady intoxicating scent. Cursing their upscale surroundings, he placated himself with the thought he’d be inhaling the real deal before the night was over. He curved a hand around her trim waist and walked her out, thankful his dinner jacket covered his raging hard-on.

  “Be right back with your car, Mr. Layton,” the valet said and rushed off when they stepped out into the crisp evening air.

  “One of your favorite haunts?” Heather hiked a brow.

  He shrugged. “The owner contracted us to build him a new home a few years back.”

  She smiled. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that networking is the backbone of a thriving business.”

  “Exactly. Nice to know they taught you something useful at that Ivy League college.” He winked.

  “I learned a hell of a lot more than that.” She lightly whacked his arm.

  “Apparently respect for the person who wields the power wasn’t included in their curriculum. Take care, brat. I’m just itching to get your sweet ass exposed for a little lesson in respect.”

  “Nice to know I haven’t lost my touch,” she said slyly, peeking up at him through a thick fan of lashes.

  He chuckled and gave her waist a light squeeze. “Glad to see honesty won’t be an issue.”

  Conversation halted as the valet drove up, a tip was dispensed and they settled in.